


Put Down for a Collar

by julliel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Creampie, D/s, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Femdom, Master/Pet, Multi, Oral Sex, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Darcy Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julliel/pseuds/julliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Later that day, they take a walk in the park. Darcy walks at a sedate pace while Bucky runs ahead of her, comes back, circles around her and does it again, like an energetic and happy dog. </p><p>At the thought, Darcy ponders whether Bucky would like to wear a collar, and if she should get Steve one too in case he gets jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Down for a Collar

**Author's Note:**

> Tried getting this done before sleeping. I am so tired.
> 
> *In other news, last weekend I hooked up with a guy who looked like the younger, broader version of Jaime Lannister. So hot. Also has the sweetest dog.
> 
> **This had nothing to do with the story, I swear. I just like to TMI about my life.

It's not like she's the dommiest dom to ever dom. In fact, outside of a scene she doesn't exhibit a lot of aggressive nor domineering behavior. She acts more like the rock in the storm when they feel like the ocean of their emotions threaten to take them out to sea.

 

For someone usually perceived as hyper and energetic, she's unusually calm and serene in her own abode, which is why Steve and Bucky prefer to frequent her apartment instead of their own. (They're working on a convincing presentation to persuade her to move in with them, to move her own center of calm into their own homes.)

 

Steve is the high strung one. Every little thing must be in their proper place. Darcy suspects he's got a case of OCD what with the way he twitches and freaks a bit internally when certain items are even a millimeter out of line. Bucky's not very mindful of this, sometimes too lost in his own head to pay attention to such inconsequential details. But Darcy knows. And she's always there behind him to put whatever it is back in its 'proper' place so Steve's heart rate can go back to normal and she doesn't have to check his blood pressure.

 

Bucky on the other hand, sometimes needs a steady hand to keep him grounded. Whether the hand holds his own while they walk or strike down on his body during a scene, Darcy, surprisingly enough, provides all that and more.

 

Sometimes he wants the sensation of pain to tell him where he is. All his memories of Hydra involve the numbing cold and oblivion. The sharp and hot pain that Darcy gives him, especially when he's specifically begging for it, gives him a life and fire that Steve is unwilling to give him. Considering their long and complicated history, Bucky figures it's a good thing that they both found a willing third to fill in the gaps they have between each other.

 

Not that Steve is incapable, not in the least bit. Bucky imagines that his bigger, firmer hand would rain down an exquisite pain that would leave him trembling but he knows Steve doesn't have the heart for it. He's Darcy's other sub after all.

 

They don't often have a scene.

 

Their relationship is more categorized by how they act in their daily lives than it is how they act during bedroom activities.

 

Steve and Bucky function more as pets in a sense, and it's something that gives them both great pleasure.

 

Even with a house full of genius billionaire playboy philanthropists and alien god royalty from galaxies away, the others find the relationship a bit unusual.

 

=

 

Darcy sits on the couch while Steve lays down on the floor. (Don't ask. It's probably got something to do with the things he's used to. Creaky wood floors of the apartment he used to share with his Ma. The dirt floor of the forest where him and the Commandoes set up camp...) She absentmindedly runs her foot back and forth his torso, from chest to hips, as she watches her TV shows. Steve contents himself with keeping his eyes closed and occasionally touches his hands to her toes.

 

Natasha walks in with a bowl of popcorn. She was more than willing to share until she sees what Darcy's doing to one of her significant others, one whom she claims to respect and love above all else.

 

Darcy looks up at her and smiles, only cracking a bit when she's sees the judgement on Tasha's face.

 

“I used to do this to my dogs. Guess it works on people too.”

 

Natasha studies the dopey expression on Steve's face. He's one level off from lolling his tongue out the side of his mouth just like a dog. Maybe he really is into it, and Natasha (for once) just can't relate.

 

“I don't think people normally go for something like that.”

 

“Aww, don't hate. Look how happy he is.”

 

She reaches down to scratch him on the belly, and Steve, that smug bastard, practically preens under her attentions.

 

Natasha shrugs and sits down next to Darcy. If Steve didn't like anything that Darcy did, he'd tell her.

 

=

 

There's a bathroom down the hall near the communal area, one close by that it would be impossible not to miss it on the way to the kitchens.

 

It is there that one Tony Stark could see one James Barnes sit by the foot of said bathroom door.

 

“Uh, Barnes... You do know there are places to sit in the living room, right? Like couches and chairs and stuff.”

 

Bucky only spares him the quickest of glances before returning to his previous state of general attentiveness.

 

“Okay. Just so you know. All right.”

 

He's about to leave when the bathroom door opens, and Darcy comes out looking fresh and content. She doesn't bat an eyelash at the hound she has at her heels.

 

“Hey, Tony,” she says, casual as you please, as if she didn't have a brainwashed assassin sitting outside the bathroom and following her.

 

“Nice bathroom pet you got there.”

 

Either Bucky doesn't register the insult or he doesn't care.

 

“Oh, that. Well it gives him comfort, I guess? It doesn't bother me at all.”

 

He shrugs. He'd done some kinkier shit in his youth so who is he to judge? That doesn't stop him from shooting one last barb.

 

“Might as well get your pet a leash there. Don't want him to get lost.”

 

With that, he turns on the ball of his foot and makes his way out of the hall.

 

Darcy bites her bottom lip in thought. Maybe he's got the right idea after all.

 

=

 

In the early mornings, the two supersoldiers carefully wake (lest they rouse their beautiful mistress from slumber) and set off on their daily run. They come back and Steve begins cooking breakfast. (Bucky would do it, but after the almost fire that happened the last time he tried to cook, he'd been banned from all stove-related activities henceforth.)

 

Bucky crawls back into bed, nuzzling his face into Darcy's stomach until she sleepily puts her hands through his hair and wakes up from the increased heat coming off of his body. She tells him that his method of waking her up is so much more relaxing and pleasant than waking to the blaring screams of an alarm clock so he makes sure to do this without fail.

 

If he can make himself useful in such a simple way, who was he to complain?

 

“Mm, mornin',” Darcy manages to mumble out. Bucky only holds her closer in reply.

 

Her breathing evens out again and he wonders if he'd have to wake her up again if she went back to sleep. But her hand moves down to massage the back of his neck and he knows for sure that his mistress only wanted more quiet time with her Bucky.

 

It's how their mornings usually go, and none of them have any desire to change it.

 

=

 

On a quiet afternoon, they all simply do their own things in a companionable silence. Darcy loves to read and is almost never found without a book during her down time. She likes to spread herself on the couch, like she is now, holding the book aloft until her arms shakes, then she'll turn around on her stomach and turn, repeating the process over again.

 

Bucky likes to sit on the floor with his back to the couch. He can feel her presence behind him and it comforts him to know that he can be so close to her for his own comfort and also be right at hand should she ever need him for something.

 

Darcy is fully aware of what he does and why. Sometimes she even asks for a glass of water because she knows he delights in doing even the smallest things for her. It breaks her heart because she feels that he thinks any slight show of selfishness would make her send him away, but if this is what he needs then this is what he gets.

 

Steve sits in the corner of the room, reading or drawing (usually of the two of them.) He used to sit up at her beck and call, until he realized that Bucky needed the servitude more than he did and so relinquished those minor duties unto him.

 

Ironically, the “kinky” part of their arrangement is the inbetweens. The parts between their bedroom encounters that provide the unusual dynamic. Not to say that kinky didn't have its uses in their sexual activities as well.

 

=

 

Bucky wakes with a jolt. Where is he? Sweat dots along his brow and streak down the side of his face. His breath comes out haggard and hard; he tries to control it and ends up harshly inhaling and exhaling through his nose. His body tenses, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.

 

He scans his surroundings. Living room. Location: unknown. No signs of other people- wait. Footsteps. Light. On carpet.

 

“Bucky?”

 

A man enters the room. His motions are slow and steady, and his hands are raised up in the air. Bucky thinks that he should know him but a name isn't coming to him right now.

 

He launches himself at Steve- except it's not Steve. It's another Hydra henchman who's come for him. Sent to capture him. To harm Steve. To harm Darcy. His loves, his life, his everything-- No, no. It's Steve.

 

It's Steve, who's his friend and his love and he must put his arm down because it's crushing his windpipe.

 

He lets go with a crippling fright, more scared of himself than anything. Steve catches his breath and manages to cough out. “Need Darcy?”

 

Bucky nods.

 

“We'll ask for tonight then.”

 

=

 

Steve looks so gorgeous over there, his body beautiful and naked with only the leather cuffs decorating his perfect form.

 

If it wasn't for the dainty hand pushing down on his back rather insistently into the dining table, Bucky would have jumped his bones already.

 

“Look at me.”

 

He turns his head to follow her instructions. His cheek presses against the chill of the table. “Yes, ma'am.” The words come out muffled from the blockade in his mouth.

 

“Who am I?”

 

“Darcy.” She flicks at his ear. The motion is silly, childish even. But the sharp, quick pain reminds him that he's to behave or else he won't get what he wants (needs). “Mistress.”

 

She grants him a smile then and he could feel his heart soar without even getting up from this submissive position. “And you're aware of what I am about to do; you want it, right?”

 

“Yes, ma'am.”

 

“Good, boy.” She caresses his hair back away from his face so that he may see whatever will happen in the next moments.

 

“You're so beautiful right now. I wish you could see yourself.”

 

He is indeed very beautiful. He's bent at the waist, his upper body flush against the dining room table. His wrists are held in leather cuffs and velcro-ed together behind his back. Strong enough to hold him for a bit, easy enough for Darcy who never learned how to tie rope properly.

 

She draws a finger down his cheek to the ball gagged in his mouth, a bit of drool escaping out the corner. The finger ends its journey at the middle of his bottom pouting lip, stretched as it is across the ball.

 

“I love you so much. Do you know that?” Darcy holds his head and leans close so that their foreheads touch.

 

“And you know you've done something bad. But we're going to beat it out of you, okay?”

 

He strains to nods imperceptibly at her. She makes an unseen gesture behind him, which serves as his only warning when Steve's hand comes down in an unforgiving smack. Then before he could recover his wits about him, Darcy's slap reigns down swiftly afterwards.

 

The difference between Darcy's slaps and Steve's, is the sound and the pain. If she wanted to rouse them all with the swatting sound, she would do the slapping. If it were for the pain (or other times when he deliberately misbehaves) or to make a point, Darcy would make Steve slap.

 

Steve normally doesn't like doing this. In fact, the first time Bucky begged for a spanking from Steve, he safe worded so hard he left the bedroom and into the kitchen until he remembered he was still very much naked and probably owed his partner an explanation. But under Darcy's commands, he could feel free to do this because she knows how far they can take it, and she'll never go overboard not if she could help it (which means Steve will never go overboard either).

 

Now it's all Steve, raining down pain in rapid succession until the taut skin of his buttocks bloom an attractive red. Throughout all of this, he makes not a sound.

 

Darcy coos at his obedience and rewards him with slick fingers trailing the puckered entrance of his ass. He backs up, hoping to get her to stick them in, but she merely pulls her fingers away and tuts at his eagerness.

 

“Patience. Or you won't be able to move an inch.”

 

It's not an idle threat. He knows because once he'd been eager to see how far she'd let him go and ended up getting tied bodily on a table, unable to even twitch except turn his head from side to side. It was an exquisite session, but not one he'd want to experience on a more consistent basis.

 

Good thing Darcy is more than happy to help him with that.

 

A bold finger enters him and that simple thing almost makes him want to sob. She hushes him, pushing another finger in and another until he realizes that her fingers are bigger than he thought. Then he spies Steve standing next to him with his arm extended toward Bucky's ass. The discovery makes him groan. Both Steve and Darcy have their fingers knuckle deep within him.

 

“Fuck our fingers, Bucky.”

 

Not needing any other incentive, Bucky pushes back with a clumsy need. His hips roll with no grace, trying with all his might to get them deeper, pull him wider. He wants to do good. He wants to be so good for them, his balls absolutely ache with it.

 

And as soon as it starts, it ends with a cruel emptiness. Bucky whines at the hollow sensation.

 

“Shh, baby. Let me punish you.”

 

Small, nimble fingers tread through his hair and pull his face up. He comes face to face with her delicious pussy and he wants nothing more than to bury himself there. To lose himself.

 

One foot props on the table next to him, opening her cunt for a better view. Bucky can't think of a better sight than this. Then Steve's cock comes into view then disappears again into her folds. Her fingers clutch at his hair even harder and his neck strains to keep himself upright. Steve pounds the ever loving fuck out of her. There's no build-up or foreplay, not that he saw anyways.

 

He can smell them. The combined scents of their arousal, heady and potent, reach Bucky. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the high he achieves.

 

It's quick. Or rather it goes by in a blink when Steve lets out a filthy fucking groan and comes, and comes, _and comes_ inside of Darcy. So much that a trickle of it slides out as he pulls from her. Bucky's mouth waters behind the gag.

 

If he had to choose a favorite food it would be a Steve-filled Darcy. Steve knows it. Darcy knows it. And Bucky knows that if he's a good little boy, then Mistress will let him have a taste (or even let him have the whole pie).

 

She leads the both of them to the bedroom through their daze, unrolling the velcro ties around Bucky's arms. She pushes him backwards onto the mattress and he flops down gratefully with a squeak of the mattress coils.

 

She wastes no time in perching on his face with all the grace of a queen on her throne and rubs herself wantonly on his gagged face. The ball rubs at her swollen clit and her juices run down the sides and on his lips, missing his mouth. Bucky moans with desperation, smelling her arousal enflaming his own. He moans because if it weren't for the gag in his mouth, he'd suck all the slick from her pussy like the good boy he is and make Mistress happy. For right now, he must content himself with licking the backside of the ball and pretending it's as good as her nether lips.

 

All this happens as Steve holds his legs open, one strong hand hooked under each folded knees, and enters him without warning. He goes in balls deep at the first stroke, and Bucky's so fucking glad they made sure he's nice and slick for this to happen, something he's ever grateful for. No matter how much Mistress enjoys inflicting pain, she always makes sure there's no lasting damage (physical or otherwise). Steve's cock, rubbing hard against his prostate, pistons inside of him. He can feel how close he is, but he holds off. Mistress hasn't given him permission yet.

 

Then Mistress takes off his gag, throws it in some direction within the room, and nods at him, the signal to allow his wishes. He could nearly weep. He reaches up with eager hands to latch onto her generous hips and bring her pussy down to his waiting mouth. He ravages her like a thirsting man at a fountain, drinking every drop her exquisite rain could give him. He kisses her lips as he would her mouth, and delights in the utter excess of _sensation_ that Mistress gives him with just her body alone.

 

He could die like this. Pussy in his mouth and a long, hard cock in his ass. His body on fire from exertion, absolutely nothing like the cold of cryo-freeze. The memories (the bad ones, the artificially made ones) almost disappear while he's in this state. He escaped Hydra submission to bow down to another kind, one of divine deliverance. He'd do anything, _anything_  for her. Follow anything she says because she would never steer him down the wrong path.

 

“Come now.”

 

What can Bucky do but obey? He comes so hard he passes out from the sheer intensity of it. He regains consciousness some moments later, only vaguely aware of the hands passing over his body. Someone wipes the sweat and come off of him. Then he's rolled into a blanket and the other two frame him with their bodies.

 

“Hey. You alright?” Darcy peeks from under her lashes at him.

 

He smiles at her sleepily, sedate and content. “I love you. Thank you.”

 

“You don't have to thank me. But you're welcome.” Bucky closes his eyes and his last thought is that Darcy didn't even get to come.

 

=

 

He wakes first, feeling restful and ready. No nightmares reached him in his sleep. He can recognize his surroundings now and knows who the people are in his bed. His two lovers. His everything. Speaking of which, he remembers there's a little something he forgot to do in his exhaustion yesterday.

 

He drags the coverlet off of Darcy. She moans a little in her sleep but doesn't wake. He nudges her legs open, massaging her hips and her thighs to get the blood flowing in the area. Then he goes for it. His kisses her lazy and slow, like he's got all the time in the world. He lays on his stomach with his forearms propped under her thighs. He wonders if this will be a good wake-up call for her.

 

Bucky can sense her waking up from the rush of wetness on his lips and the soft, aware moans she starts making. Her legs shift up to stretch but otherwise goes back to rest on his shoulders.

 

“Unhh, Bucky, you're so good.”

 

Her breathy encouragements spur him on further, and he intensifies his attentions.

 

“Yeah, like that. Oh I love it- I, ahhh. Bucky unghh.”

 

Her body quakes underneath him, her legs buckling around his head and the scent of her come filling his head like the sweetest drug.

 

When he's done and assured that he's paid her back and more for the caring she'd shown him last night, he makes his way back up her body. He brings his eyes to hers and sees the love shining there for him.

 

“Good morning, doll.”

 

She lightly smacks him on his shoulder for his cheekiness.

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

=

 

Later that day, they take a walk in the park. Darcy walks at a sedate pace while Bucky runs ahead of her, comes back, circles around her and does it again, like an energetic and happy dog. At the thought, Darcy ponders whether Bucky would like to wear a collar, and if she should get Steve one too in case he gets jealous.

**Author's Note:**

> I want a pet. And not the canine sort either.


End file.
